


Fika

by Val_Creative



Series: No Angst June/Domestic Fluff Month [11]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Awkward Dates, Dorks in Love, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Gen or Pre-Slash, Humor, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:53:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24668698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Val_Creative/pseuds/Val_Creative
Summary: A late morning brunch turns disastrous.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: No Angst June/Domestic Fluff Month [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1769860
Comments: 12
Kudos: 36





	Fika

**Author's Note:**

> I LOVE THEM. SO MUCH. EVEN DOING THIS LITTLE BLURB HAS MADE ME MISS THEM. I have no idea if any shippers are roaming around but if you are, I hope you like this! Any thoughts/comments are welcomed!
> 
> _"Fika" (verb): making time for friends and colleagues to share a cup of coffee (or tea) and a little something to eat._

*

11\. Coffee And/Or Tea

Things have gone quiet since The Apocalypse was prevented.

 _Too quiet_ …

Crowley doesn't trust it.

He reclines in a dining room chair, looking around idly at this new restaurant. Clear wine glasses and velvety lighting. White tablecloths. Seems like _every other_ restaurant Crowley has ever visited with Aziraphale. They order a fruit bowl and toast and what appears to be a egg scramble with spinach and mushrooms and tomatoes from the brunch menu, sharing a plate or two.

Aziraphale wiggles his fingers in barely concealed excitement.

"Are those… by any chance at all… _crepes_?"

Crowley gives a one-armed shrug. "Help yourself, angel," he mutters, sipping his ristretto.

"Don't mind if I do." Aziraphale scoots them in. He then lifts his nose, his eyes fluttering shut. "I say… what _IS_ that lovely aroma?"

A pause.

"My coffee?" Crowley answers, baffled when Aziraphale smiles widely. He detects high, floral notes in it.

"Is it?"

"You're welcome to try it."

Aziraphale chuckles, practically tittering in his own chair. "Oh my, oh my… how _generous_ for a demon." He accepts Crowley's coffee as the other mystical being shoots him a look. Hard to say with the dark sunglasses. "Would you like some of my tea?"

"No," Crowley says, immediately grabbing onto Aziraphale's teacup. A warm honey flavour. Heavenly.

Within moments, they hack and flinch as if struck.

"That's vile…" Crowley groans, pounding a fist against his chest.

Aziraphale dabs a napkin to his lips, shuddering. "Absolutely horrendous…"

"Disgusting… _completely disgusting_ …"

"Regrettable…"

"How can you drink that?" they proclaim at the same time.

Their frowns soften into open-mouthed laughter.

*


End file.
